Page 49 of Stilettos & Secrets on the 7 Seas

“Fine. Let me put my life on the line. Let me save Marco.”

“Not this time.” He gave a two-fingered motion toward the guards. “Lock them up.”

Jake stepped in front of me. “General Potts, I think?—”

“Agent McCoy, unless you want to lose your job, I believe you have other travelers to get on with their mission.”

I turned to Jake. He stood motionless. Then, as if shot with a syringe of the General Potts Kool-Aid, he nodded. “Yes, sir.”

My mouth dropped to the floor like some Looney Toons character. I stood firm and looked at Jake. When his gaze dropped to the floor, I poked a finger at the air and spoke in a tone I’d describe as psycho-possessed. “This is why Marco died. No one went back to help him. You killed him. All of you.”

The guard grabbed my arm and tried to pull me toward the door. I kicked him in the shin. He pinned me to the table.

The general went all squinty-eyed. “Miss Cloud, if you don’t cooperate, I have given the men permission to shoot you. In the leg or the arm. Not anywhere fatal, but I imagine it would still hurt.”

“Jen, for fuck’s sake, follow orders.” Jake motioned to the guards to take us away.

Jake, who I’d spent the morning with, drinking coffee and hugging congratulations, was stabbing me so deep in the back his knife scraped my sternum. I stopped the useless struggle and just before the guard jerked me from the room, I sent Jake my most hateful,how could youhostile stare.

Eighteen

The guards led us down a long hallway. The air conditioning hummed, but steam rose off my skin from the anger that burned inside me.

“Where are you taking us?” Ace demanded. “My granddad will hear about this, and you beefcakes will be out of a job.”

The beefcake on my left snickered. He wasn’t afraid. The head cheesecake was calling the shots, and there wasn’t a damn thing we could do about it.

The WTF headquarters were in Guantanamo Bay because it’s one of the most secure prisons in the world. It holds terrorists, enemy spies, and all around super bad guys. If one of these bad guys breaks out, they’d have to swim a marathon through shark-infested water to Haiti or fight their way over rocky terrain and through the Cuban jungle. There have been no escapes from Gitmo.

We stopped outside a cell block of six. The cells in the WTF wing were like the ones that held volatile criminals of war, except ours had old-fashioned keyed locks instead of computer-driven doors. I assumed these were the original doors passed down to us after the other camps received more modern technology.

Each door had a thin rectangular glass window, impenetrable to breaking but not to sound, and a passthrough for food and medicine.

Brigands rarely needed the harsh security of the Gitmo prison. They didn’t throw feces on guards or gouge someone’s eyes out with a broken faucet. Instead, a brigand knew they’d be bartered for political gain or military advantage.

The guards locked each of us in individual cells. I couldn’t see Fredericka in the enclosure next to mine. Ace was across the corridor, his face smushed against the glass window, making his lips Angelia Jolie-worthy.

“Let my people go,” Ace chanted. “Let my people go.”

The guards left, but one remained standing just outside of the entrance to our little chamber of horrors.

“What the frig was that?” Ace’s shrill shrieking echoed off the cement walls.

“Why did I listen to you?” Fredericka spat the words. “I should have jumped on my own instead of reporting to headquarters.”

So much for us being besties. “This isn’t my fault. I wasn’t given any heads-up. I know just as much as y’all do.”

Except I knew more. There was a treasure to find, and General Potts had another treasure hunter searching for it.

Jake had ratted me out. He told Potts about the treasure map. And now Marco would die. A big tear dripped down my cheek. Where were Al and Pickles in the travel lab? Did they know Potts had taken us hostage?

“It’s the old ball and chain routine,” Ace said. “Pottsy’ll keep us locked up until the fat bastard gets what he wants or until he needs us instead of whoever they’ve coaxed into doing their bidding.”

“I can’t believe this happened.” I banged my fist against the door. “Fredericka’s right. This is all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, hon.” Ace gave me his most sorrowful gaze.

“It is my fault. I should have stayed and helped Marco find Sasha.”

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